


I Don't Wanna Lose You Now

by serohtonin



Series: Show Me How to Fight for Now [1]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serohtonin/pseuds/serohtonin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After experiencing a loss, Darren seeks out comfort from a familiar face. Title taken from Justin Timberlake's "Mirrors."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Wanna Lose You Now

**Author's Note:**

> I own no one, and this didn't actually happen.

Darren's been knocking on Chris' door for what feels like hours, but has probably only been minutes, with such ferocity he thinks it might break soon. The shades are drawn, but he's fairly certain that Chris is home. He's pretty sure Chris didn't have any other plans, except to write.

Though Chris probably isn't writing if he's heard the news.

He's not sure how many more knocks it takes, but he embraces Chris tightly as soon as the other man opens his door.

After the initial shock, here was the first place he raced to, breaking every speed limit along the way.

Darren just couldn't be alone.

He never could be anyway, but he needed someone who understood, and he thought Chris might need someone, too.

He doesn't speak at first, letting Chris envelop him, and breathing in the faint splash of cologne on his neck.

"I love you, man," he mumbles into Chris' shoulder.

"I love you, too," Chris returns quietly, stroking Darren's thick and still-shaggy curls.

"No, I love you. Like, so fucking much. You don't even know. Well, maybe, you do know. If you didn't, I'm telling you right now." He pulls back to look into Chris' wide blue eyes. "I'm in love with you, and I thought there would be time, and the circumstances would be better, but maybe there isn't and I--I really love you, Chris."

"Darren, I---Will, the show, your career, _my_ career." Chris pushes him away. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"I'm _thinking_ that none of that shit matters, and that I couldn't waste another second thinking that it did. I needed you to know, even if I figured you'd react like this. And I don't care that you're pissed off at me, because at least, you're alive," he yells frantically.

Chris' face falls, in a way Darren hasn't seen since filming in Battery Park. But this breaks Darren's heart even more, because he's never had to watch _Chris,_ one of the most mature, composed people he's ever known, collapse right before his eyes.

He suddenly feels guilty, selfish, and idiotic for being so goddamn impulsive, for thinking that maybe something might happen between them.

After taking a deep breath, bathing the charged air between them in stillness, Chris answers quietly, "Look, I know you're hurting. I am, too, and everyone reacts to grief differently, but I think we shouldn't do anything that we might regret later."

"Chris," he steps closer, reaches for Chris' hand, like an anchor rooting him to the spot when all he wants is to float away in a sea of bereavement. "The only thing I could ever regret is not telling you sooner. I am so, so in love with you. Can you just, please--?"

Darren cuts himself off, grabbing Chris' face with both hands and kissing him fiercely.

It's almost bruising, and wrong, not at all how Darren kisses as Blaine, but underneath the raw emotion, he feels warm, and familiar, and a quality Chris can't quite grasp that is so very _Darren._ Chris stills at first, but then he grips Darren's bicep, hard, and surrenders, before pulling away. "Why didn't you say anything?" he pants.

"I couldn't--I---I don't know. Any excuse sounds really dumb at the moment. What matters is that," he attaches his lips to Chris' neck for a brief moment, "I'm telling you now. I'm--God, you taste so good. Wanna taste you, wanna feel you everywhere. Want you all over me, always. Please. Tonight, can we--?"

He doesn't finish, instead rucking up Chris' shirt, roving over the newly revealed skin.

Chris licks his lips, letting Darren's rough, calloused fingers play over the taut muscle of his sides, like he's seen Darren caressing the strings of his guitar.

It's so reverent, and overwhelming, that Chris has to bury his face in the crook of Darren's neck. He might fall apart otherwise. "Darren, I don't think--"

"I don't want you to think. _I_ don't wanna think. Please. Let me love you. Lemme be with you. I could--we could--" his lips messily trail across Chris' cheek, and over to his mouth again, this time kissing him softly. "I want you so much. Waited too long."

"So, you just," Chris kisses him again, "expect me to listen," and then again, already addicted to the taste of those lips, "to your heartfelt confession, and let you take me to bed?"

"Actually, I was hoping for the opposite?" Darren asks shyly, kissing the corner of Chris' mouth.

"Dare--"

"It's a first I'd like to share with you? I mean, I've tried fingering before, on myself, but--"

Chris runs his fingers over the scruff of Darren's cheek. "You--Fuck." He nibbles at Darren's lower lip. "Yeah, I'll--I'll fuck you," he agrees, avoiding any deeper connotations.

"I'll take that," Darren replies, his tone laced with resignation and sadness. "Bring me upstairs."

Chris interlaces their fingers and drags him to his room. He strips Darren of his clothes, and kisses him slowly, over every inch of bare, tanned flesh. His mouth finds Darren's sensitive inner thigh, and sucks a deep purple mark there.

"Ow, unhh, shit," Darren curses under his breath, clutching at Chris' hair. "Don't stop."

So he moves over to the other side, matching his efforts until he's satisfied with the result.

"Gonna open you up now," Chris informs him, nudging his legs open further to gaze at the dusky, private space underneath his balls. He circles it with an index finger. "No one's touched you here? No one but me?" He wonders in awe at the trust Darren's giving him.

"No," he quakes under Chris' slight touch. "Only me, and you. Me and you, Chris." He holds onto Chris' free hand. "Me and you."

"Okay," Chris sighs, unsure how to respond. So, he retrieves the lube and a condom from his bedside table.

He catches Darren's eyes, their whiskey shade so sincere, full of so much unbridled affection, the kind Chris has only seen when they've played lovers in front of a camera, yet his expression contains less doe eyes, and more certainty.

A sudden thought strikes Chris that maybe this isn't a knee-jerk reaction to what happened.

Maybe it really is love.

As Chris shakily removes his shirt, he swears his heart stutters in his chest.

He also swears he hears Darren whisper, "So fucking gorgeous."

Chris blushes but finishes exposing himself.

"Jesus, Chris."

He finds himself getting pulled down by strong hands, Darren's mouth hungrily covering his, and those hands now exploring his back and continuing down to his ass.

He instinctively backs into it, and then ruts forward, seeking friction.

"Fucking, touch me," Darren pants into his ear, their cocks rubbing together.

"Alright, let me." He pushes on Darren's shoulder, and leans back, coating his fingers with lubricant. "It might be a little cold at first," he warns.

"I know. Don't fucking care," Darren writhes, spreading his legs as far open as he can. "Want you inside me. Wanna feel close to you."

Chris only answers by pushing a digit inside of Darren.

"Ohhh, ohhh," he moans in response. "That feels kinda weird, but good weird."

“Good.” Chris experimentally crooks his finger. “How about now?”

“Mmm, better. Need more. Harder.”

He pulls out, adds more lube, and another finger. “You like it rough, don’t you?” he teases while working a rhythm.

Darren grunts back, pushing against him. "Ugh, c'mon."

He wants to come back with something, anything, but all he can do is watch Darren's thick, now fully erect cock bouncing as he fucks himself down on Chris' fingers.

Darren starts jerking himself off. Chris quickly swats him away, though, because if this is the only time they let this happen, he’s going to touch.

“Finally. Won’t you, unhh,” he squeezes Chris’ ass, “fuck me already?”

"That's what I'm doing," Chris reassures between thrusts, "but, okay. Soon."

He pumps a third finger in and out a few times, before pulling out, and hastily wiping his fingers on the sheets.

Chris reaches for the condom with the hand that had been stroking Darren. "Sorry in advance if I hurt you."

Darren stares from below him, mouth agape and pupils blown out with lust. "Want it to hurt. Wanna feel something. Wanna feel you."

Chris bites his lip, figures they should probably clarify what's really happening, but here Darren is, willing and wanting, and already open for him.

He'd be lying if he hadn't imagined exactly this during many dark, lonely nights not too long ago.

So he rolls the condom over himself and slowly pushes inside.

"Oh, God, unhh, Chris," he grunts, a hint of anguish in his voice.

"Told you."

Darren brings him in for another heated kiss, slipping his tongue inside and practically fucking his mouth, spurring Chris into pushing in faster.

“That’s not--" Darren huffs out against Chris' lips, "I mean, it hurts a little, but you feel--I don’t even know. It’s--yeah. Ungh,” he grunts again, once Chris is fully seated inside him.

Chris stills for a moment, allowing him to adjust. He wants to make a joke about how he rendered Darren speechless and that he would’ve done this a long time ago if he knew that would happen.

But the words don’t quite fall out, because he remembers the tragic catalyst that brought them together. He clenches his jaw, tries to hold back the wave of grief threatening to overtake him, instead focusing on the tight heat around him.

Darren thumbs at Chris’ cheek, apparently wiping away a tear. “Chris, it doesn’t have to be okay. You don’t have to be okay. We can stop if--”

“No, let’s keep going.”

When Darren wraps his legs tight around Chris’ waist, he doesn’t add that Darren’s the only thing holding him together.

Darren presses his heels into the small of Chris’ back. “Well, move already, then.” He kisses Chris on the temple sweetly, the intimacy of it so powerfully familiar, like he's been doing it for years.

He could have been, if they weren't so stubborn, and didn't let the tension linger between them for so long.

The circumstances of their lives are so different now versus how they used to be, that they would probably never work as a couple in the long term.

They could probably never work, anyway, regardless.

Chris’ heart aches as he inches out, feeling the phantom loss of a person who's right in front of him, surrounding him, but maybe never really belonging to him.

He drives back in, hard, pulls out almost fully, and drives back in harder.

Chris pulls back again, scraping his teeth against Darren's earlobe when he slams back in.

Darren drags his legs up higher on Chris' back. "Yeah, yeah. Fuck me harder. You're so good, Chris. So fucking good," he praises.

Chris basks in it, pauses for a second, and then mechanically continues his pace.

"Ugh, yeah. There. Shit. Chris, Chris, look at me," Darren prods.

Chris' eyes fly open, his bright ocean blues meeting with desperate, manic hazel.

Darren cups Chris' face in both hands and kisses him again. "Love it. Love you filling me up. Love you. Needed this. Need you."

"Yeah." Chris reaches between them, fumbling for Darren's dick. "Need you, to--to come," he finishes, unable to say what Darren wants to hear.

Darren sighs, his arms slipping down Chris' neck. " 'm close."

Chris is torn between wanting this to last and ending it soon, wanting to remember how right this feels in the midst of all the wrongness, yet also wanting to forget about the selfishness of their behavior.

He settles for fucking into him in quick, deep thrusts, causing Darren to cry out.

Another jerk, and then Darren is coming, with a whimper of Chris' name on his lips.

"C'mon. Keep going," Darren encourages, his legs falling onto the bed as he rubs Chris' back.

Chris thrusts into his spent body until, eventually, he releases.

Silence hangs between them, save for their breathing.

Chris is still softening inside of him when Darren kisses his cheek and remarks, "I'm not sorry. I wanna be, but I'm not."

Chris pulls out, and rolls to Darren's side, doesn't say anything as he disposes of the condom.

"Please, don't get all quiet on me," a still out-of-breath Darren begs.

He curls up on his side, facing away from Darren. "You should be. We both should be. I can't--I couldn't even pick up my phone before you showed up and I--"

His whole body starts to shake with the force of his sobs, and before he can even register, he collapses back into Darren's arms, like a safety net he never thought he'd need.

There's a brief, featherlight brush of lips to his shoulder. "I could've handled it better, I know, but I needed you, and you needed me, too. You still do."

Chris chuckles wryly, the sound feeling foreign and tasting bitter in his mouth. "I hate it when you're right."

"Which is always," Darren returns playfully. "C'mere."

Chris turns to face him, and is met with a cautious peck on the lips.

"You matter to me, so I'll be here for you, however you want. This doesn't have to mean anything," Darren remarks seriously.

Chris replies solemnly, "Thank you. You're really important to me, too, but I don't think this should happen again."

"Okay." He rests a hand gently on Chris' hip. "I want you to remember what I said, though, because I meant it, even if I was an ass about it."

"I know."

They fade into fitful sleep soon after, drawing away and pulling each other closer every so often, as the late night becomes early morning.

Darren stays most of the day, holding Chris until he absolutely has to leave for New York. "I don't wanna go," he murmurs sleepily, rubbing his eye, even after he's showered and dressed.

"You have to. I want you to. I can't let you miss this."

Darren concedes after a slow, deep kiss. "I love you, so much, no matter what happens."

"Okay," is all Chris says, because any more reciprocation than that would shatter him, would make what's happened between them more real.

"Okay," Darren mirrors. "I'll miss you."

"Me, too."

"That's enough for me. If you're not okay, you promise to--?"

He pats Darren's thigh. "I promise."

\----

A couple days later, Chris attempts to escape the feelings swirling in his head by opening his laptop and concentrating on his newest project.

His phone buzzes and he wants to ignore it, but he’s glad he doesn’t.

It’s a message from Darren.

There’s a crooked picture of a black ribbon, seemingly on a lapel, along with the words:

_What do you think? It’s sort of a 'in memoriam' type thing, I guess._

Through blurry eyes, Chris types back:

_It’s wonderful. Good luck._

He thinks they’ll both need it in the following days, weeks, and probably months, to deal with the void that will forever remain.

 _Thanks. Talk to you soon,_ Darren replies.

\----

They do see each other soon, but they don’t discuss the night they spent together.

They never discuss it.

If their touches linger too long on set, they don’t discuss that, either.

But they don't let it go any further.

They let it lie dormant, where it belongs, until some nebulous time, whenever they'll need each other again.

"Love you," Darren murmurs into his skin that next time as he's above Chris and inside him.

"Love you back," Chris answers.


End file.
